This is a church down the street from me…they’ve got some odd slogans.
Andy
My friend Andy is in the hospital with a serious (and seriously odd) medical condition. Now that’s he’s written a blog post about it, I’d like to wish him all the luck in the world and ask everyone to keep him in their thoughts. Get better soon, Andy!
A couple short films
A few years ago, I attended the San Diego Comic Con and was fortunate enough to see a short film called Walkentalk, about a guy introducing his fiance to his younger brother, who happens to be completely obsessed with Christopher Walken–to the point where he speaks only in Walken quotes.
When I saw Walkentalk I had also just missed a short film called Street of Pain, which stars Steve Carell and is best described as “John Woo directs a dodgeball movie.”
Anyway, since the Internet is the greatest series of tubes ever, here are the films in their entirety for your viewing enjoyment.
Another one dusts the bytes
My friend Tom’s Xbox 360 died last week. More specifically, the external hard drive of his Xbox 360 crashed, which meant he lost all his saved game data. All the progress he’d made on any game–gone. Fortunately, one’s Achievements are archived on Microsoft’s server, so his gamerscore is safe.
But that did get me thinking–why doesn’t Microsoft store gamesaves and other vital information on its own servers? From my understanding–and if anyone out there knows better, correct me if I’m wrong–gamesaves aren’t terribly large. If Google can offer 2 Gb of email storage for free, can’t Microsoft provide 5 or 10 Gb as part of the yearly subscription I’m already paying? I’d even pay an extra $10 for such a service. Given the obviously unsatisfactory failure rate of Xbox 360s (my hard drive crapped the bed right out of the box), it would seem like the least they could do. It’s not like storage is that expensive these days.
Larger stuff, like downloadable content and game updates, could be stored on the hard drive, because that can all easily be re-downloaded. But once a gamesave is gone, it’s gone. Yes, there are some ways to save your savegames on your PC if you’re computer-savvy (or willing to spend the money on some third-party peripherals), but most casual players aren’t going to be thinking in those terms, so when the big crash comes, they lose hours (or let’s face it, weeks) of effort in an instant.
Nowadays, when saved games are so important for consoles and storage so cheap, I think MS should step up and offer online gamesave archiving.
“I can’t believe…” (puts on sunglasses) “…I’m watching CSI Miami.”
It all started with The Soup, the most recent iteration of E!’s Talk Soup. For those who have never seen it, The Soup is a half-hour show that makes fun of everything that happened on television and pop culture that week. Host Joel McHale pokes fun at clips from reality shows, “news” shows like The Insider, and other random TV-related junk.
One of McHale’s favorite gags is to show the latest cold open from CSI: Miami where Horatio Caine, played by David Caruso, inevitably gets off some awkward one-liner right before cutting to Roger Daltrey’s famous scream from “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” McHale often then does an impression of Caruso, including putting on a pair of glasses before cutting to the scream. This never fails to crack me up. (To see a never-ending compilation of Caruso’s cold open one-liners, click here.)
I remember catching an episode of CSI: Miami during the first season and just being bewildered by Caruso’s odd, affected performance. His Horation Caine speaks in slow, measured tones at all times, whether he’s interrogating a suspect or ordering lunch. He talks like he’s explaining something to a four-year-old, and half the time he doesn’t face the person he’s speaking to. It’s one of those performances that is so idiosyncratic that it both works and it’s laughably easy to parody. It’s like a new William Shatner! (Incidentally, I think Caruso would have been perfect for the title role of Constantine. Of course, anyone would have been better than Keanu “Blank Stare” Reeves.)
I tried to watch the original CSI for a while a couple years back, but I never really got into it. Too little characterization, too much suggestion that any and all deviation from a “normal” lifestyle will get you murdered and tossed unceremoniously in a dumpster.
Anyway, after being amused by McHale’s Caruso impression numerous times, I started watching episodes of the show when I caught them on A&E. And lo and behold, I got hooked.
Most of it is due to Caruso’s wacky performance, I’ll admit. The rest of the cast are okay–I like Emily Procter–but Caruso sells that show. It also has a lot more action and characterization that CSI Vegas, and so it seems I’ve found a new show to tape repeats of on the DVR. That’s right–I’m still behind on Battlestar Galactica, I’ve never watched Lost or The Office, but I’m going to watch reruns of CSI: Miami.
On another note, I mentioned a while back that a pitch I’d made to a fairly major magazine had been accepted. Well, the article’s been turned in and should run in the magazine’s September issue. I’ll provide more details once everything has been finalized, but the hard part is over.
Hellboy sweetness
Sometimes to get a comic shop to order a lot of copies of a particular comic, a publisher will offer a “retailer incentive.” This is often some sort of poster or super-rare variant cover or even a collectible like an action figure, and the comic shop gets one if it orders enough copies of the comic. Then the store can put the incentive on display, though often enough they’ll just sell it to a rabid fan, usually at an exorbitant price.
The current Hellboy miniseries is called Darkness Calls, and the retailer incentive was a beautiful 18×24 poster signed by artist and Hellboy creator Mike Mignola. Since I’m known as the local Hellboy freak at New England Comics in Harvard Square, the manager, Matt, set aside the poster and sold it to me for an insanely reasonable price. I’m actually jealous of me.
I can’t thank Matt enough, so instead I’ll plug his rap/funk/rock band, Type 4. You can also check out his Myspace page here.
(Oh, and so far, Darkness Calls is really good. It’s written by Mignola but drawn but Duncan Fegredo, since Mignola is busy with Hellboy 2.)
Live Free or Die Hard
I don’t remember the first time I saw Die Hard. I do know I loved the movie as a kid, which was one of the great action films of my youth alongside The Terminator and T2, Predator, Aliens and Robocop (though I saw most of these as edited network television versions, rather than the R-rated originals). In junior high school I wrote a story in which my high school was taken over by terrorists and my friends and I were the heroes who fought them, crawling through air ducts and using makeshift weapons–an obvious rip-off of Bruce Willis’s first starring vehicle.
I read an article recently (can’t remember where, sorry) that listed the greatest action movies, and on the entry on Die Hard it mentioned how Willis’s John McClane, a blue-collar New York cop who gets caught up in a terrorist attack on an office building in Los Angeles, was a different kind of hero than the bad-ass, unstoppable Herculean killing machines that Arnold (Commando) Schwarzenegger and Sylvester (Rambo II) Stallone tended to play. As the movie begins, McClane is having trouble with his marriage, irritable from having sat through a long flight across the country, and as uncomfortable with the flaky California culture as only a lifelong New Yorker can be. Over the course of the first film, McClane is beaten, stabbed, shot, burned, blown up, and forced to walk barefoot over broken glass–and unlike Stallone or Schwarzenegger, all those wounds add up, to the point where his wife gasps in shock when she sees what’s become of him near the end of the film. (more…)
Live Free and Roll Out
There’s so much I could be blogging on—and yet, nothing at all. (That’s deep, yesno?)
There are a lot of movies out I want to see. There’s 1408, for instance. I recently read the short story it’s based on, and I have to say it was one of the least-scary things I’ve ever read, to say nothing of the least-scary thing I’ve read by Stephen King. “The Body” (the source of Stand By Me) was scarier. But the film looks more interesting, and I always enjoy John Cusack and I usually enjoy Samuel L.
Then there’s Live Free or Die Hard, which I’m planning on seeing tomorrow. I love the original Die Hard as well as the second sequel, Die Hard With a Vengeance. I’ve only seen Die Harder once or twice, and for some reason I don’t find it as appealing—maybe because Vengeance has something of a plausible explanation for why McClane gets involved in yet another terrorist incident. I was initially skeptical of Live Free or Die Hard—the title is pretty lame, and I’m wary of this whole better-late-than-never sequel trend (Rocky Balboa, John Rambo, Indiana Jones and the City of the Gods). But I’ve heard good things about LFoDH, and I can’t really think of a Bruce Willis movie I haven’t liked (though I’ve never seen Hudson Hawk), so I’m giving it a shot.
Then there’s Transformers. Fifteen years ago, I would have been the first person in line to see that movie. At the age of fourteen I wrote a gigantic Transformers pastiche (fanfic) that was over 200 pages when printed. From about age six to fourteen, I loved the Transformers. They were a huge part of much childhood. And yet, I’m just not really excited about the movie. One would think the movie would have re-awakened my Transformers obsession; after all, I spent years collecting the revamped Masters of the Universe line back in 2002-04. But for whatever reason, it hasn’t taken hold.
Oh, I’ll see the movie. Soon. But in terms of movies I’m really looking forward to, I’m all about The Dark Knight and Hellboy 2 (and the aforementioned City of the Gods). 30 Days of Night might be good, too. And I have high hopes for I Am Legend. Oh, and The Bourne Ultimatum.
The trick is actually getting out to the theater, gritting your teeth and laying down a ten spot for the privilege of watching pre-presentation commercials and getting gouged at the concession stand.
Training session in the garden of good and evil (w/ pics!)
I apologize for the almost epic pause between posts. I spent all of last week in Savannah, Georgia for a training session for my job. I ended up having to be there from Monday through Saturday evening, so it was one long trip down there in the land of Oglethorpe.
I stayed at the Hilton in downtown Savannah, so I had the chance to become pretty well acquainted with the city.
The main impression I was left with is that in mid-summer, Savannah is really hot. And muggy. Hot and muggy. Sweat was the order of the day. I was pretty ripe when I got back; in fact, DG demanded that I shower immediately when we got home, because I “didn’t smell like Jason.” I would argue that I smelled more like Jason than I ever had before, instead of soap and Pert Plus. In any event, it was a relief to wash off yet another layer of dried sweat.
Most of our time during the day was spent in training, but we were done by 5 PM and at that point we could stroll around Savannah to our heart’s content. Savannah has a lovely boardwalk along the Savannah River on what is aptly titled “River Street.” River Street is home to River Street Sweets, where I discovered I apparently love pralines. A lot. I brought some back for DG, but the sugar was a bit too much for her, so I think I ended up eating most of that box too.
I spent most of my time in Savannah with my co-worker Jackie (see below). Somehow we managed not to drive each other crazy, and we had a good time hanging out with all the other librarians. We were the only Yankees in a group of Southerners, yet there were hardly any references to the War of Northern Aggression or grumbling asides about “that old drunk Grant.” Maybe one or two.
On Friday evening my college roommate Jim drove up to see me from Atlanta and, along with Jackie, we went on a so-called “Ghost tour.” Savannah is allegedly home to many ghosts, possibly due to the constant yellow fever outbreaks that struck the city every summer for the first 200 years of its existence.
However, I have to admit that this ghost tour was less than impressive. Our guide clearly didn’t believe in ghosts at all, and it became evident over the course of the tour that he was doing this to pay off those student loans on his Masters in history. The guide also refused to make eye contact with anyone, instead keeping his eyes focused on a point somewhere above our heads, which was disconcerting after a while. The scariest part of the tour was when he started talking about how the yellow fever was transmitted and we all noticed we were being eaten alive by mosquitoes.
That’s Jim and me on the ghost tour. Yes, it was damn hot, even at night.
In order to take a direct flight back (rather than have to go through, say, Detroit), Jackie and I ended up staying an extra day. So on Saturday, we visited Fort Pulaski, a Civil War-era fort who had the dubious honor of being the first victim of rifled cannon, which forced the Confederates to surrender within a mere thirty hours. Some of the shells are still embedded in the fort’s brick walls.
That’s Jackie and me in front of the fort. Again, it was really hot. Apparently the moat was full of alligators, though I didn’t find that out until later, after I’d been walking along the stone edge.
One of the earliest known photographs of men playing baseball was taken in Fort Pulaski. We were fortunate enough to catch a reenactment of an old-timey baseball game (I should mention the last two photos are courtesy of Jackie, while the first is from Jim—I forgot my camera).
Jason vs. Jason
I can’t do it.
Four movies in and I’ve come to the conclusion that this slasher-film-fest is not going to work. Even Friday the 13th Part IV: The Final Chapter, with its crazy Corey Feldman and its macheted Crispin Glover, could not win me over.
I’ve discovered I really don’t like slasher movies. I like monster movies—preferably monster movies with some semblance of a plot or theme.
I liked Freddy vs. Jason, but I think that may have beeen because both franchises had acquired enough “mythology” in their respective universes to allow for a vaguely interesting plot. Freddy and Jason were both full-fledged supernatural monsters by that point. Also, I grew up a huge fan of Godzilla movies, and the whole “versus” concept seemed like a campy nod to those days.
But these early films…I don’t get the appeal of slasher films. I guess it’s similar to that of movies like Hostel and Saw. I know that there are real-life psychotics out there who murder people in brutal fashion—I don’t get any enjoyment out of seeing it on-screen.
I admit the Friday the 13th films are particularly egregious. Unlike Halloween, which had good direction and a horror-in-suburbia theme, or A Nightmare on Elm Street, which had a more intriguing plot and antagonist, these Friday the 13th films just have a guy in a hockey mask killing people in gory fashion. I found myself wondering why, exactly, Jason kills all these people. After his very first victim, we aren’t given any reason for the rest of his endless murder spree. How about some psychological background at least? Of course, Jason’s very existence is an affront to what is set up in the first film, which at least has the infamous reverse-Psycho twist at the end.
Anyway, I’m sorry, folks. It was a good idea, but I began to crave oblivion before I could even finish the first franchise. I realize these are probably the worst films of the lot, but I just can’t bear the idea of watching hundreds more teenagers get hacked, slashed, strangled, tortured and whatnot.
I think I’m gonna go watch The Monster Squad again.